Every Mark is Perfect - New Work in Southern Colorado

The view from the studio. Southern Colorado, May 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay

A few weeks ago I headed down south to spend 10 days with dear friends at their meditation/art retreat in southern Colorado. I’ve been here before and always seem to drop in to some other level of deep listening. My “plan” was to find more stillness, go on a media diet, and maybe do a bit of painting too. Check, check and check.

But what else happened was an even greater gift.

MW Wanderings #6 Acrylic on Yupo Paper, 5.5” x 14” 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

I had been feeling stale for some time with my work, not really energized or excited about what was coming from my studio. Maybe it was the effects of the past year, the pandemic/distancing, the inability to get on a plane, which is usually great motivation for me. But I felt the sludge of stasis and it wasn’t doing much for inspiring fresh work.

MW Wanderings #7 Acrylic, graphite on Japanese Yupo paper 5.5” x 14” 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

But a few days into my retreat, a loud and clear voice said to me, “every mark is perfect”. This wasn’t some egoic self-congratulation, nor was it a new revelation. I’ve been studying some version of this approach for many years. But this time was different. I sank deep into the moment of simply moving the paint across the paper, viscerally, without judgement or concern for outcome. I truly believed that every mark I was making was exactly as it should be.

MW Wanderings #10 Acrylic on Yupo Paper, 5.5” x 14” 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

Without effort, in that one day, about 15 completed paintings went up on the wall. I don’t know that I ever felt so at ease with my work. Afterward I thought, but are they done? So I chose to bring in judgement to see if in fact I would present them to the world.

And there was hardly a thing I would change.

MW Wanderings #5 Acrylic, toner on Japanese Yupo paper, 5.5” x 14” 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

It’s impossible to say, when people ask ,“how long does it take to make a painting?” The honest answer is - a lifetime. That’s not meant to sound snarky. There is no consistent measure of time in art making. Almost all of the paintings I did at the retreat were overpainted from previous works that I labored on for months and months to no avail. But the history and textures built up over time brought depth and complexity to the final paintings that I could never have intentionally created.

MW Wanderings #9, Acrylic on Japanese Yupo paper. 5.5” x 14”. May 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

There is a great Zen story about a master calligrapher who is commissioned by the Emperor to do him a painting in 3 months for a substantial fee. The day it is due, the Emperor arrives to collect it, but the artist has not even started it yet. The Emperor is furious. The artist gets his paper, ink and brush and in a flurry, creates a brilliant calligraphy painting. Perfect.

The Emperor says, “I paid you all this money and it didn’t take you any time!” The artist replied, “it took me my whole life to do that.”

All the trial and error, all the learning, all the sweat and tears. All the times you want to give up and feel it is pointless. All the time you are alone and rudderless. All the moments of breakthrough that make it all worthwhile. All the times someone finds joy and beauty in what you do. None of this can be measured, not by time, not by money.

MW Wanderings #3, Acrylic on Japanese Yupo paper. 5.5” x 14”. May 2021 ©Amy Guion Clay More info HERE

That moment of recognizing that every mark is perfect extends beyond the studio to every moment being perfect. If in the creative process we can strengthen that muscle of being at peace with what is in front of us, then we can practice it more in every day life as well.

As in art, so in life.

In this way, the importance of silence and deep listening can not be overstated. Our higher selves are always sending us messages, most of which get lost in the NOISE of our lives. We don’t have to go on retreat in order to hear with fresh ears, but removing the clutter of distractions in our daily lives will open up new channels of insight and instruction that are priceless.

Now more than ever we need to be vigilant to tune out and tune in to our deeper wisdom. Everything we need to know is just waiting to be heard. Try not to miss it.

Dirt tracks into the mist. ©Amy Guion Clay 2021